Love Change
- Vernon C. Lindsay, PhD
- Aug 15
- 3 min read
Minutes before my family left for vacation, we stopped in one of the airport’s electronic stores. My youngest wanted a pair of headphones. While he browsed the overpriced gadgets, a salesperson talked to me.
He asked, “Where you headed?”
“Chicago,” I replied.
“Is that home for you?”
“Um, something like that. We were born there but…”
“Oh, I get it. You’ve moved away, and it no longer feels like home.” The salesperson finished my sentence.
I smiled and nodded as my son asked about the prices of several items in the store. My wife looked at me, we thanked the salesperson for their time, and walked to the gate.
Four hours later, the pilot announced our descent into Chicago, and the skyline came into view. I smiled and then reflected.
Born and raised between Chicago’s Southside and the south suburbs, I’ve often called Chicago home. But things CHANGE.
Sometimes, home isn’t home.
Home is wherever you and your family reside at the current moment.
Time does pass more quickly than we realize.
Before last Thursday, it had been nine years since my entire family visited Chicago. We left in 2016 and lived in Mexico and Antigua before returning to the States in 2024. Something special took us back to our birthplace.
Although I’m a sucker for savoring memories and good food, we didn’t return for a taste of nostalgia or the famous Giordano’s Pizza.
We traveled to celebrate my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary. Some of us don’t reach fifty years old. Staying married and in love for fifty years is almost unfathomable.
Despite the significance of the anniversary, we nearly didn't make the celebratory weekend of events.
Alongside the many unexpected expenses of repatriating to the States, I couldn’t squeeze a family trip into our tight budget. While Umoja pays me well by most standards, the costs of five airfares, luggage fees, and other associated travel expenses add up quickly. I relied on my parents' generosity to help cover the fees.
LOVE requires commitment.
My parents recited their wedding vows on August 17, 1975, in Los Angeles, California. From their union, they had six children, fourteen grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. As a pastor and the first lady, they led ministries in Kansas City, Memphis, Los Angeles, and Chicago.
Dressed in white attire, family members and close friends gathered for dinner to celebrate my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary. Under my five sisters’ leadership, the evening surpassed expectations. We enjoyed a delectable meal, live music, a wedding vow renewal ceremony, and much more.
After we played the tribute video, I shared how we respected and appreciated their decision to stay married. I acknowledged their sacrifices and commitments to each other’s love as the glue that held their fifty-year bond together.
Love mornings…
The morning after the celebration, I woke early, intending to experience a different kind of love. I planned to write, practice capoeira, and run along the lakefront. So, before my sister’s wooden floors creaked from the tiny toes of multiple children playing throughout her massive home, I sat in the kitchen and wrote.
Once I put a period at the end of a draft, I met my youngest sister outside, and we drove downtown. We parked on Wabash before sunrise. I warmed up on Michigan Avenue with pushups, mountain climbers, and capoeira movements.
A few minutes in, and I stopped to capture the sun’s emergence over Lake Michigan. My sister continued along the Lake Shore Drive path. After I passed Navy Pier and other Chicago landmarks, I reflected again.
To adjust to life in Mexico and Antigua, I distanced myself from Chicago. I had to start over.
Survival required leaving the past and refocusing on the present. Taking care of my family’s needs, doing meaningful work, and finding joy through triumphs and challenges became top priorities. Although I’ve returned to the US, the survival strategies gathered during the years abroad remain deeply embedded in my psyche.
While I enjoyed the time with my family and visiting familiar locations in Chicago, it didn’t feel like home. Things have changed. I’ve changed.
Change is the most reliable constant we experience as human beings in this life.
How do you define home? Drop a comment below.
Support this blog by subscribing, buying a book, or registering for coaching services. See the video tribute played for my parents at their wedding anniversary dinner below.
Just having living parents is a special gift, Dr. Lindsay, as you know. Mine passed, at least 20 years ago for a survivor mom, 32 for dad in a terrible home fire. We cherish their memories and what they did for me and my brothers. We are 'chips off the old blocks' regardless, so we can celebrate with them the joys of the past, and the present. Remember you are your parents for your children, but a pleasant mix of both. What we do for our offspring will be shown in some way during our lifetimes. May they see and experience the good in each of us.